


won't you settle down baby, here your love has been

by Nito



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period, im in a pit of despair and longing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23627137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nito/pseuds/Nito
Summary: a vignette somewhere between seasons 4 and 5. really just sappiness. i just really need them to be okay, and to also confess their love to each other. and to be so soft.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	won't you settle down baby, here your love has been

Martin stared at Jon from across the small room, silent, as the fireplace crackled and sputtered with abandon. The silence wasn’t angry, no, nor judgmental. Just quiet. Soft. Concerned. Worry was all Martin ever felt like, some days, as much as Peter tried to convince him otherwise.

Finally, Jon cleared his throat (in that awkward, annoyingly endearing way he did, how did he do that?) and wrung his hands. The nervousness around him was new, uncharacteristic.

“We should probably talk.”

Martin choked back a bark of laughter. “We’re well past that, don’t you think?”

“Yes, well. Quite. I just thought – maybe – well, I don’t _know_.” Jon paused his handwringing to run his fingers through his hair, which, Martin noticed, had grown out since the man’s coma.

This time Martin did chuckle, and crossed the width of the room easily, where Jon sat on the weathered loveseat. It was funny to him, that Daisy had a loveseat in one of her safehouses, but that was neither here nor there.

“I’m going to refrain from making any comments about you, the Archivist, not knowing something.”

“You just did,” Jon said, somewhat petulantly. “You know what I mean.”

“Not really, actually. I don’t have the slightest clue what we’re discussing, Jon.”

Jon sat ramrod straight, staring directly at his knees as if they’d done him some disservice.

“The Lonely – that is, ah, what do you remember, Martin?”

“I said that I loved you.” There was no denying it, no obfuscating it now. Not from him. Jon’s breath hitched, ever so slightly, and if they weren’t sitting so close Martin would have missed it.

“And that… _statement_. Would you consider it to be… the past tense?” A beat. No, two. Martin’s breath caught in his throat, words threatening to spill out. He wasn’t being compelled, no, Jon had been very clear that he tried not to compel his friends but sometimes it just happened, no this was all him, all Martin, and –

“Martin?” A whisper, a question. Jon continued to stare downward, practically burning a hole in the floor. A breath. Two. Keep it together.

“I… I would not.” The words felt loud, wrong, wait – “I-I mean, that is, I consider my words to be in the past tense. But also, the present. And… the future, Jon.” His voice was stronger now, firm.

“I loved you, love you, will continue to love you, Jon. If-If you’ll let me.”

Martin couldn’t tell if the noise Jon made was the beginnings of laughter or sobbing, it was strangled, and Martin saw that the other man’s eyes were screwed shut.

“Let you? _Let you?_ It’s not an honor, Martin, it’s just _me_ , I don’t understand, I don’t –” Jon’s face was cemented in his palms now, Martin reached over, a tentative hand on Jon’s shoulder.

Warm. Reassuring. There.

“Martin. All this time, I’ve never understood _why_. With everything that I can _see,_ and everything I can _understand_ – it’s fucking unfathomable. But even with… all of this. With everything. You’re still here.”

Martin’s lips quirked in small, sad smile. “I wasn’t always.”

“You can cut yourself some slack, Martin. You were being outright manipulated—”

“I know. I know.” He loosened his grip on Jon’s shoulder, realizing at some point during the conversation he had the man in a vice grip. The silence was back, a lull in the conversation. Not entirely comfortable, but not unwelcome either. Martin made to remove his hand entirely, but Jon had leaned into him.

“I love you too, y’know.”

Jon said it so casually, so much like _breathing,_ that Martin almost missed it.

“You… what.”

“I’m sorry that it took me so long. I really am,” Jon continued on, as if Martin hadn’t interrupted with his brilliant insight. “And I would have never figured out that you liked - loved – me, if it weren’t for a recording of Basira’s office gossip and –”

“Wait, _what”_

“I mean, it took me almost losing you to figure it out, and by that time I thought I was too late. That I couldn’t have this – wasn’t allowed it. Still not sure of that, if I’m honest –”

“Jon. Stop talking.” Martin moved, cupping Jon’s face with both of his hands. “You’re being stupid.”

Jon blinked dumbly.

And Martin kissed him, just like that, without thinking, barely breathing but so, so warm, and alive, and right there, in front of him. Kissing him.

They parted briefly, Jon’s surprise overcoming the part of him that needed to ramble, to understand. And Martin with an impish grin on his (annoyingly attractive???) face.

Somehow Jon restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Instead, he moved closer to Martin on the loveseat (god bless you, Daisy), and wrapped his arms around him, slowly, silently asking for permission. Martin was still grinning (arsehole) but didn’t move when Jon rested his head squarely on his chest.

“Alright?” Martin breathed, careful to not disturb him just yet.

“Yeah. Alright.”

And he was. He really, really was.

**Author's Note:**

> hello i finished season 4 several minutes ago, was immediately possessed and churned this out. enjoy! leave a comment! suffer with me! work title is a lyric from heavenly father by bon iver.


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